Black Cat
by we'llmakeyoufuckinsick
Summary: AU: Sebastian and Ciel centric. The pair meet quite by accident in modern London, turning life and death off it's natural course. Lucky? Or a sinfully tragic twist of fate? Reviews and alerts alike are appreciated. {{Now updated/edited}}
1. Prologue

_**Prologue.**_

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_**{{Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler is property of Yana Toboso. Sadly, in no way do I own these characters and thus do not claim to have any rights over them. This is merely the writing of an admiring fan, much like yourself.}}**_

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It wasn't that nobody in late-night London saw it apart from him.

It was just that nobody cared.

It's the way things are in busy cities. Everything is someone else's responsibility. Someone else will talk that man out of jumping on the rattling train tracks, someone else will help that sobbing old woman up, someone else will see to that shrieking girl in the alley. For that reason, the city is full of savages. Fierce tigers, deceptive snakes, and poisonous flowers alike are strewn all around. A Darwinian community – survival of the fittest!

Sadly, Ciel Phantomhive was certainly not the fittest.

_It was a matter of luck or misfortune; depending on whose eyes you looked through. The raven-haired university student was trudging home from an ego-bruising, failure of a date. Sebastian's foul mood had begun to dissipate as he walked it off and headed in the direction of the Embankment Tube Station to begin his journey home. All he wanted was to curl up safely under his sheets and lick his wounds before morning came and he had to deal with the hangover he had earned himself. _

Barely two-hundred metres ahead, a rickety car came to a skidding stop, its wheels clipping the kerb. In the front, two male voices whispered excitedly about the money they had stolen – '_we're rich, we're rich!_' – and in the back of the car there was a stiff silence from a dull-eyed boy who was wedged uncomfortably between his parents. They were the unfortunate victims of this crime.

Ciel, the thirteen-year-old boy and the black cat on Sebastian's otherwise clear path, had witnessed his parents having bullets driven through their skulls just fifteen minutes before. He was now sharing a car with the killers. He eyed them resentfully as they climbed out and pulled open the back door. Ciel watched them dragging out the wilted body of his mother and then winkled his nose as one of their hands seized his wrist. He twisted in disgust at the feel of their common, bloodied touch as he too was hauled out. With a frightening calm about him, he cooperated and stared despondently ahead while his father was propped against the car. His slender wrists were bound messily to the two bodies. Thoroughly detached, Ciel marvelled inwardly at how quickly a life could be ended as he supposed his own was about to. The young teen was drawn roughly over to the edge of the Thames. His eyes slid over to the dead parents on either side of him who were being supported by the two perpetrators. He mused solemnly that they were not dissimilar to rigid puppets.

_Sebastian watched the small scene play out. The shadowy figures ahead were merely something to preoccupy him until he reached his destination. From the distance he was at, he supposed they were a family of tourists seeing the sights. At night, the area just beyond Victoria Embankment Gardens was less unappealing than usual. Perhaps to a stranger passing through, he thought, London looked beautiful – nothing but a sea of bright lights and lively colours, when one looked out across the water. Sebastian's gaze wandered back to the group as he walked. The youngest in particular caught his attention. Despite being a teenager, the lamplight revealed that the doll-like boy barely looked ten years old. _

As a result of this very fact, neither of the now filthy rich men who had their pockets lined with a small portion of Vincent's fortune, expected the child to survive being thrown down into the icy depths in mid-December, particularly with his wrists bound to the two corpses; shooting him would just have been a waste of bullets and would have made an unnecessary mess.

Ciel set his jaw tight as he heard a strange ripping noise. It was horribly smooth and natural. Black liquid dripped over the murderer's hands for just a moment before a powerful heave sent him and the two bodies plummeting into the Thames.

_Sebastian saw the child fall. He debated whether or not to intervene, to call the police perhaps? But he did nothing. It was none of his business. Instead he simply stood and watched. The two men ran back to the car, slammed the doors closed and sped off. The student was left wondering if his eyes had deceived him. Sebastian's curiosity a finally outmanoeuvred his cynical logic and he rushed to the river's edge. Looking down, he caught a brief glimpse of Ciel's head bobbing above the surface. The boy spluttered pathetically and choked before he was dragged down again, out of sight. _

**Blood. **

There was blood around him, thickening and staining the water. He could taste it, bitter and warm in his mouth. Blue eyes turned in desperate confusion to bodies of his parents. Their stomachs were cut open. Their expensive clothes had done nothing to stop the sharp edges of the blade and between the reams of thick red he saw jagged ripped skin and their wide, staring eyes boring into him as they sank slowly into the darkness of the water. He began to struggle, his fragile body straining uselessly and trying to pull to the surface despite the weights dragging him down.

The attempt was in vain.

His asthma drained away the last of his breath and his heart fluttered like a small bird in his chest. Despite the adrenaline and the fierce will to survive, the surface began to fade from view as he swallowed water and blood.

His lungs burned.

His nails dragged over his father's stiffening hand as they sank.

He gathered his wits enough to let go, though not without taking the only remaining ring, the one marked with the family insignia, from Vincent's finger. Still, the rope bound him. The shoddy knot came loose after several seconds of desperate thrashing, but as the rope came undone, reality struck him.

He realized the distance of the surface was too far to reach. He had never been a strong swimmer and the lack of oxygen was making him dizzy. Struggling anymore was undignified and pointless. The beastly dark waters, choking him, gagging him no longer seemed so unfriendly. He couldn't see the lights anymore. He was going to die.

Thirty long, agonizing seconds passed.

Despite the blistering cold, a feeling of dull peace set in.

He no longer cared. Ciel wondered to himself at the pain in his body, which had by now ebbed away. He had become tranquil. In his mind, he heard piano music that his father had often played in the evening and he saw the maids rushing around their large London house. He remembered slapping one once because she had brought him the wrong sweets of similar name and the subsequent feigned guilt when his mother informed him that the woman was deaf. He remembered the household dog and frowned to himself when he remembered its death at the foot of his bed.

Its heart had stopped and it had thrashed uselessly, panting and in its fitting it slammed its head against the wooden base, the vibrations and sickening thud shaking him to the core as his beloved companion rasped out its final breath and lay there dead. That was two years ago now but it seemed like a day ago. He could feel its warm fur between his fingers.

Everything dulled and dipped into black. For a fleeting moment, he felt a great weight on his chest. He felt cold. He wondered above all what would happen to the family wealth.

_It took a minute or two to reach him. _

_Sebastian clutched the young boy against his chest as he strove powerfully towards the surface. _

_The tantalising sight had sobered him and with the thoughts of the protagonists and heroes burning in his mind (and his future status as one of them), he had dived in after this child. Michaelis knew an opportunity when he saw one. He gave a dark smirk and imagined to himself that he would be revered in the papers. He wondered how this pitiable boy, with the long eyelashes and feather-light body, would dote on him and smooth out his wounded ego. Satisfied and feigning modesty to himself, Ciel's supposed saviour dragged him to safety._

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**Author's Note**: A massive thank you to my brilliant beta-reader TheDirectorH. Reviews are the essential to keep me motivated on this one. Scribble me up something to keep me writing. Criticism, compliments, general bugging for another chapter. I want it all. Thank you, my sweet little devils.

Yours,  
Terminal VIII.


	2. Settling in

_**Let Us Begin.**_

_The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy. - John Galsworthy._

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Six months had passed since then. The initial flare in the newspapers had long since burned out and the hero of the day, Sebastian Michaelis, was shunted out of the spotlight for cheating celebrities and the newest end of the world scare.

Michaelis sat in front of the mirror, straightening his hair out and critically examining the ends as he prepared for another date. He glanced at himself sideways, admiring his profile and looking approvingly over his figure in the new suit Ciel had bought for him.

Since the incident, the young Phantomhive had gone into the care of his aunt, a fiery, red-headed surgeon who went by 'Madame Red'. When she was working, Ciel took it upon himself to impose on Sebastian regularly both after school and at the weekends; after a few lengthy phone conversations with his protective aunt, Sebastian had managed to reassure the woman that both he and his home were safe and adequate for her beloved nephew. Ciel had been waited on hand and foot his entire life and so was endowed with a child-like dependency that meant he had to be cared for like some exotic animal. It irritated Sebastian to no end. However, cooking for and occasionally washing and dressing Ciel seemed like a small price to pay for the lavish gifts. Sebastian's home was littered with them. Even the mirror in front of him was a high-priced find at an antique store they had visited on one of their many shopping trips. Ciel often told Sebastian outright that he only wanted him there to carry the bags. However, Sebastian (with his unclouded intuition) knew that the boy felt indebted to him for his heroic deed and worshipped the ground he walked on.

_Bzzz. Bzzz._

Another request to go to lunch together? Perhaps a trip to France or Germany? Thank God he had saved the boy, or else perhaps he would not be enjoying these luxuries. His heart swelled.

'_I'm bored. Do you have to go on that date tonight? I'm sure she's not of much consequence_.'

The way Ciel spoke amused Sebastian to no end. The formality was a false image, he was sure, and the stiffness reminded him of some Victorian noble caged in convention. A quick tap of his thumb and the screen turned blank.

"What a pity, seems I didn't get the message before I left the house, Ciel." He purred. He would see the slate-haired boy tomorrow and bring brightly coloured sweets to gloss over the abandonment.

Since he had saved Ciel (and found the boy a few days later at his door with no apparent explanation of how he had gotten his address) he had acquired a certain fondness for him. His snappy and childish behaviour was almost endearingly pathetic but what pleased him all the more was the way the boy was forced to look up due to his diminutive stature. These apparently lasting traits bred a loyalty in Sebastian's heart and that aside, Ciel really wasn't bad company (not that Sebastian generally had a choice whether that company was forced upon him or not). Ciel had the mind of an adult in most respects and best of all, he didn't seem to bother with that tedious business of grieving which in turn relieved Sebastian from the obligation of placating him with awkward sympathy. Instead, Ciel's mind was focused on the future of the Funtom Company - his father's successful business, which dealt primarily in confectionary and toy production - (which now essentially belonged to his aunt) and on the problem of a man named Claude Faustus who was lingering around the house more often than Ciel could stand. Sebastian would undoubtedly have the pleasure of meeting this man tomorrow.

The night had dragged by and Ciel had fallen asleep propped up on a chair in his bedroom, which was regrettably smaller than the one he slept in six months before. 'You couldn't swing a bloody cat in there,' he had complained to Sebastian one evening while angrily nursing a cup of Earl Grey in response to which the student had just scowled and disappeared sulkily off upstairs to see his own cat, as if he feared it too might be swung around as a measuring tool.

Sunday morning had arrived and Ciel was tending to a large stack of paperwork for business. They were trading over here, importing from there, opening up new stores in the names of towns he couldn't pronounce. The fact that the business didn't belong to him didn't stop him nosing around to keep up to date with every move the company made as well as making mental plans for the future.

A dark shadow fell over Ciel, interrupting his slowly forming outlines for the future.

"What're you doing with those?"

Ciel looked up with a frown, feeling the immediate atmospheric drop into oppression. His small jaw tightened. "Why do you creep about like that? What entitles you to just go invading my room like this? Do you not know how to knock?" He demanded, straightening up and brandishing the papers he had been looking over.

"The fact that your aunt put me in charge of those papers – and the company for the time being... as well as the fact that I've been looking for those all morning." Claude walked over and snatched the papers from Ciel's fingers. Blue eyes glared into an amber brown. "You really are a brat," He added, watching the child screw up his nose. "I don't know how your father put up with you." Claude laughed emptily, making his way over to the door. Ciel's blood boiled with frustration. He couldn't say or do a thing. He couldn't even leave without Claude's permission – which he wasn't willing to ask for. The door closed firmly and Ciel pulled out his phone, getting to his feet and huffing. Where the bloody hell was Sebastian?

"Have no fear, little Ciel, I have arrived," Sebastian cooed as the door swung open, wearing a catlike grin on his features. Ciel just stared up at him darkly, still holding the door open and considering slamming it in the bastard's face for making him wait. Still, late company was better than none with that other prick hanging around the house.

"Who's at the door?" Came that dark, smooth tone from the kitchen. Claude emerged and walked down the hallway to greet the visitor. His black hair framed his face and his piercing eyes contrasted the smart blue attire that he seemed to always be dressed in. Claude's hand shot out from the sleeve of his blazer. His gaze met Sebastian's, confident and direct. He practically exuded authority and it made Ciel deeply uncomfortable. The youngest excused himself without a word and disappeared upstairs.

Sebastian looked at Claude, his heart lurching awkwardly. The man looked so similar to his late father that it almost made him start for a moment... probably both in their early forties as well. Sebastian broke into a strange smile; he had not been particularly close to his father but it _had_ been his life insurance which had paid for Sebastian's current home – and who can begrudge the dead!

Sebastian took his hand enthusiastically and shook it. Claude nodded for him to come in and glanced critically at his shoes. Sebastian stepped inside hurriedly and removed the offending article before grinning at Claude who didn't return the gesture. The older man simply turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Sebastian Michaelis, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. Am I well spoken of?" He asked with a note of smugness. Ciel spoke about him all the time, that must've been it.

"Madam Red mentioned you once. She said to expect you on occasion and to keep an eye on you."

"Oh."

"Something to drink?"

"No thank you."

"Sir."

"What?"

"Sir," Claude corrected again with a sterner tone. Sebastian's eyebrow quirked. Was that supposed to be a joke? ...Silence. Apparently not.

"No thank you, Sir." Sebastian lingered uneasily in the hallway and then disappeared upstairs after Ciel with a shake of his head. He looked between the rooms in confusion before hearing Ciel lapsing into a coughing fit and following the sound of it to Ciel's room by which time he had recovered himself and was sitting on a small chair in the corner, where he could observe all. He looked at Sebastian expectantly as he walked in.

"...Can I help you, Ciel?" He asked with an amused quirk of his brow. Sebastian's voice held an almost mocking undertone.

"Sweets." Ciel responded, not rising to his jeers and simply extending his hand. Whenever they met, Sebastian always gave him sweets but now he simply stared. He had forgotten, shit. Now the brat was going to be in a bad mood all day.

"You're absolutely useless." Ciel concluded, dropping his hand back to his side with a sigh.

"...What is he doing here anyway?" Sebastian asked after a few long moments of angry silence.

"Claude?"

"Mm."

"Oh. Aunt Ann – Madam Red, whatever you wish to call her," He waved the pseudonym aside airily. "Can't handle the company and her own working hours, so he essentially runs the company for her and makes all the decisions because she has the stock-"

"I know nothing about business. Do explain properly, Ciel."

Ciel walked over to his bed and sat down on it, considering the question. "Very well, I'll try to simplify it for you. Our business was a corporation, which means it doesn't die when the owner does. The owner is simply the person or persons who own the stock. In this case, the people who owned the stock were Rachel and Vincent, my parents, and Madam Red, my aunt." On the chess board which sat on his bedside table, Ciel slid all the other pieces onto the bed and lined up a Queen, a King and a knight. "When the stock owners die," he flicked over the Queen and King idly, "The stock passes to the estate. If I was old enough, that would have been me, however due to my age Vincent had named Madam Red as representative of the estate. In short, my mother and father's share of the stock passed to Madam Red." He held up the knight demonstratively. "Madam Red owns all the stock and is so the owner of the company. However, when I turn 18 she told me she will pass the stock onto me because she knows well enough that it was what Vincent wanted. She doted on him terribly for some reason." He added with a careless shrug, setting the knight back down.

"You still haven't told me what Claude's purpose is."

"I was getting onto that." He picked up a rook this time and then deemed it too important a piece and instead chose a pawn to represent Claude. He set it on the board. "Madam Red didn't have any awareness of how the business was run. That was mainly left up to my father. Claude, however, was a trusted manager and advised my father many times in the past and even if he didn't approve of many of his decisions in the recent years, he has been unquestionably loyal. However, Claude does not own this company in any way and cannot make legal decisions on its behalf. So, Claude comes here at weekends and some week days and advises Madam Red on the company management and although he doesn't have the legal authority to do so, he often makes decisions on the part of Funtom and deals with paperwork during the week. Always with Madam Red's signature, of course. That's why I'm forever looking over any of his decisions. I'll be damned if I think there's a moral bone in him... the way he snakes around her is sickening."

"You're terribly cynical, Ciel," Sebastian commented fleetingly, losing interest now. "The poor man's just trying to help your aunt, I'm sure."

"Oh don't you bloody start as well."

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**Author's Note: **_Sorry for the delay, my little devils, I had this written early last month but I've been unable to get hold of my beta-reader so sadly this chapter goes unedited. HOWEVER, I will be reuploading this once they do have time to take a peak which should be in less than a week with any luck - but I think I've kept you all waiting long enough as it is! As for the heavy business references in this chapter, I assure you they were a necessary evil. And now, at last, the seeds for the plot are sewn and from them will grow devilish passions of all kinds. I hope they'll come to ensnare you and stroke your senses, sway you with sweet words and drag you into the darkness._

_Yours,_  
_Terminal VIII._


	3. Modest Beginnings

**Author's Note**: _Sorry for the wait with this one, I was just trying to figure out the right way to tell it. This chapter is set just after Ciel had been born and is told from Claude's perspective. I know, narrative change is unexpected but please sit back and enjoy. Be patient - this will make sense eventually._

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**_ Modest Beginnings_**

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6 am and the alarm clock sounded diligently while the cockerel crowed outside. I reached out my hand and pressed it gently down on the clock to cease all its shrill yelling. Once it was silenced, I clambered out of bed without complaint and got dressed, routinely checking my reflection in the small bedroom windows. I nodded in quick approval before briskly making my way downstairs and beginning to make egg sandwiches for me and my parents so that we could greet the morning with a good breakfast.

I was adopted when I was 3... or maybe four, I really don't recall anymore. I was much too young to remember why or remember why I had been taken away or not wanted by my own parents. I didn't much care, it didn't trouble me. I just remember travelling in a car down to Devon and being very excited to lay my eyes on my new home, filled with animals and interesting smells. For the first few years of my life, until I was around ten, nothing was expected from me. I was loved for existing and existing alone, exploring the farm my adoptive parents owned and spending most of my time playing with the animals there (in-between my home schooling). I was particularly fond of the sheep-dog that my father let me believe that I helped train. She was a beautiful thing and so smart with big eyes and a wet tongue she loved to use to greet me in the mornings. She was my company on that farm for most of my life but sadly passed away in the spring after I turned 19, which really is where this story starts.

Finding Bess (that was the name of my canine companion) laying dead was one of the sadder moments in my younger life but working on a farm I was used to the sight of dead animals. None as close to me as her, though. I sat there with tears caught in my throat for at least half an hour, stroking her fur and looking lost, knowing that there would always be a small gap in my heart that Bessie had filled for so many years. Finally, dad persuaded me to bury her and so I did. By then, I was doing a lot of the manual work around the farm, helping with the horses, the fields and the harvests as well as chopping wood for the fire that my traditionally-minded parents loved to keep aflame and so I had quite a muscular body with a few scars here and callous hands that marked out my hard-work to strangers who might doubt it.

After Bess died, it was decided that we needed a new dog to help us herd the sheep – but dogs cost money and training takes time Bessie's death generally fell at a bad time. It was getting harder to run the farm the older I got; Dad's back had begun to ache and he complained more often than usual about the pains in his legs when he was stood up too long and generally, our produce just didn't seem to sell like it used to. They'd begun to complain so much that it worried me to listen and the future of the farm seemed uncertain. However, I did the best with what I had and took on most of Dad's jobs that spring, which generally kept me working from 6am to 9pm, if not later. I didn't mind, really; I loved my life there and I loved that farm. It was my home and I could think of nothing better to do than build it up and spend the evenings with my parents, just talking and cooking until the sun set and we put ourselves to bed. Truth be told, it was a very free life-style. There were no rules about when I had to do things or how, just that they had to be done by the time it got dark and once I was shut up in my bedroom, I would paint for hours until I my eyes refused entirely to stay open anymore – or until I made a mistake and, furious at the blemish on my work, would tear it up. I've been told since that I was quite a good artist and with the hours of frustration I poured into the damn practise, I should hope that I am.

Anyway, in my enthusiasm I suppose I've trailed off. Back to that golden morning, one of many that spring brought us that year as summer slowly approached. My father didn't come to breakfast but my mother did. She told me, with her big bright smile, that he'd gone to fetch a new dog for us. It was just over a year old and when he returned, I – like the big child I am in the presence of dogs – bounced around on my heels excitedly and fussed all over the little thing. My father expressed a concern briefly about my social isolation if I was still so excited over a hound but I ignored him and kneeled down to cuddle the precious thing, still grinning like an idiot.

"You'll have to train this one by yourself though," He warned me with a stern wag of his finger. I nodded enthusiastically and nuzzled the dog while it licked over my face.

So, until summer, my primary preoccupation was the pup. Day in, day out, I worked hard with my new friend, hoping I'd be able to get her up to Bess' level soon enough but she was so energetic that even I struggled to keep up.

One day, a day I'd rather not remember in all honesty, she ran up over the edges of the trees (there was a wooded area next to our fields) and out of my sight. I dropped the axe I was using to cut the wood for the night and ran off after her, faltering when I heard a car screeching off the road and a loud yelp that still sticks in my head when I'm alone too long. I watched a man get out of his car -which was on the grassy edge of the road - and then examine the young collie and then begin to yell at me for letting the thing run loose. I ignored him, feeling very numb and shaking quite badly, picking up the broken pup from the edge of the road and standing there with my dead pet in my arms. I felt my throat tightening but I swallowed it back and just sat down on the grass, trying to close its eyes uselessly.


End file.
